


The In-Law

by floweringjudas (manipulant)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 14:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10595490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manipulant/pseuds/floweringjudas
Summary: Sunday dinner at the Burrow





	

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted March 24, 2007, prior to Book 7's release

Harry reaches down to give Percy's bony knee a squeeze, and smiles at him faintly, the thin corners of his mouth turning up. Startled, Percy pauses in spearing another limp green bean, and his eyes flick nervously over to the twins and Ginny to see if they've noticed the touch under the table.

Harry tries not to be discouraged. He takes his hand away and goes back to eating and attempting to explain cricket to Mr. Weasley. Beside him, Percy is silent and picks at his food before his mother asks how his work is going. He's a minute into his (admittedly boring) explanation of the latest round of deliberations regarding the possibility of flying carpets being allowed back into England before one of the twins (Fred, Harry thinks) leans back in his chair and gives a theatrical snore.

Ron and Ginny try to hide their smirks behind their napkins, and Mrs. Weasley thumps the misbehaving twin on the shoulder. Harry can feel the food he's eaten sitting, leaden, inside his stomach as he seems to shrink around it - he doesn't know if everyone at the table can feel the tension (Charlie's certainly putting away a small mountain of mashed potatoes, doesn't seem to affect him) or if it's just him. Or if it's just his proximity to Percy, whose knuckles are white around his fork and the napkin in his lap. The anxiety is rolling off of him in waves.

They should've stayed at home, Harry thinks. He shouldn't've pushed. He should've taken a clue from how quiet Percy was all weekend leading up to this, from how Percy dithered over which jumper to wear til they were ten minutes late, from how Percy spent almost an hour at the off-licence down the street last night, trying to pick a bottle that wasn't too expensive or too cheap.

Harry frowns and scoots his chair closer, slips fingers through the rungs in the back to stroke over Percy's spine. The back of Percy's neck is flushed red, and his lips are a thin line, reddened by the wine they brought. He leans back into Harry's touch, slumping against the chair a little.

It's good that the main course is almost through, he thinks. Harry sighs and takes a sip of wine and is privately grateful that Molly Weasley doesn't believe in formal dinners - they'll just have to get through some sort of pudding and a few minutes of helping to clear up and then they'll leave. He'll take Percy back home, to _their_  home, their flat on the posh side of Diagon Alley where Hedwig and Hermes share a cage that takes up half the kitchen and Harry's broomstick is propped up by stacks of Percy's books and their clothes mingle together in the closet despite Percy's best efforts to keep it organised.

He'll take Percy home and curl up on the sofa with him, not let him up to turn on the radio or wash dishes, keep him there on the sofa til the tension has left his neck and shoulders, til his breathing is deep and even, til he's _Harry's_  again. He'll rub a palm over the knobs of Percy's spine, keep him close, and murmur that they don't have to go back again next time.

They will, though. Percy feels an obligation to keep Harry connected with the only real family he's ever known. And Harry does love the Weasleys, for all he can't quite wrap his head around the difficulty of their relationships, sometimes.

"It's odd, isn't it?" Percy will murmur that night, his eyes closed, half-asleep with Harry curled warm and possessive around him. "You're their son, and I'm the in-law."


End file.
